


Pharma Setup Fic

by fandom_susceptible



Series: Origins [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Oblivious Ratchet, One-Sided Attraction, Pharma insists he's not pining, Pining, Pre-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-24 09:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12009717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_susceptible/pseuds/fandom_susceptible
Summary: A mainly Aligned take on IDW Pharma's origin, with a focus on his relationship with Ratchet.  A collection of mainly very short minifics that are heavily tied together, occurring before and during "Catalysts".  If you haven't read "Catalysts" you won't really know who Illusion is, but as the POV is on Pharma and neither does he, it shouldn't ruin the fic for you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon Trivia: Pharma is Vosian, and thus in my verse, a Seeker. He moved to Iacon to practice.

This is the design I'm using for Pharma's appearance.  Credit goes to the lovely dataglitch on tumblr, [here](http://dataglitch.tumblr.com/).  This work is no longer up, but I've received permission to use it here.  Thanks, Data! 

 

* * *

 

 

     "Good morning, Ratchet." Pharma said cheerfully, wings twitching upward as he smiled at his colleague.

     Ratchet grumbled. "Good morning, my aft, I've been here all lunar cycle.  But I'll _wish_ you a good morning on my way out." He briefly gripped Pharma's arm, below his wings and vents, in greeting and farewell.

     "Have a good rest.  We're both on night shift again this evening." Pharma replied, returning the gesture.

     The grounder grumbled and waved on his way out the door.

 

* * *

 

 

     The last seal was finally put back in place and their patient allowed to rest, the operating room cleaned up.  Ratchet and Pharma stood side by side in one of the staff restrooms, cleaning the energon off their hands, tired but both smiling with satisfaction. They'd been told no one could save that mech after the crash he'd had.

     Pharma stretched when he was done, drying his hands off under a vent. "We make a good team." He commented with a grin.

     Ratchet gave a halfhearted scoff, smiling too without looking up as he finished up and moved to a different vent. "Well, you're a skilled doctor, Pharma."

     The Seeker's wings twitched up and his grin widened at the praise. "Couldn't have done it without you." He said graciously.

     Ratchet gave a bark of a laugh. "With that kind of damage?  Only a racerframe would be fast enough."

     "I don't know," Pharma leaned on the counter, checking his helm from when the patient had lashed out on the way in, before they'd managed to give him the anesthetic.  The paint was scratched, maybe a little dented - he could still feel it - but nothing major. "You couldn't have." He couldn't resist ribbing his - friend? - a little.

     "Don't push it, Pharma." Ratchet warned, though there was a note of amusement in his voice. "I'll see you in a day or two.  I don't think our schedules overlap until then."

     Pharma's spark warmed that he'd noticed, though he didn't let it show, instead straightening up and giving a little shudder of his frame to let everything settle from its post-operation tension. "Mmm.  Idiots, putting a Seeker on midday shift.  I file a complaint every time but no one's ever replied."

     Ratchet made a vague sympathetic noise. "Bothersome as it is, coding can be overcome."

     The Seeker stretched again, perhaps unintentionally showing off the sleek lines of his aerial frame. "True, and I will.  I don't need to be pleased about it."

     When he turned around, Ratchet had already walked out, and his wings drooped briefly in disappointment.  Put on the show for nothing.

     The janitor gave him a keen look. "Why don't ya just say somethin' to him already?  Every nurse and janitor in the slaggin' hospital knows you're after him.  He's refusin' to see it for some reason.  You're just gonna have to give him a reason to quit, lad."

     Pharma gave him a horrified look. "Everyone knows?"

     He received a flat look in response. "Seekers aren't known for bein' subtle.  And you're hardly an example otherwise."

     Pharma grimaced. "If this ever gets to the Board I'll be ruined."

     The janitor snorted. "They have rules against fraternizin' on duty, not happenin' to see somethin' you like.  They can't do a thing.  Just ask him to go get a cube or somethin', stop makin' the rest of us watch your bloody soap opera."

     Pharma gave an irritated chitter and brushed past him, ignoring the laugh from behind him as he glided to his next job.

 

* * *

 

 

     "Ratchet!" Pharma used his thrusters, flaring his wings to glide after and catch up as Ratchet walked out the door of the hospital at the end of a shared afternoon shift.  He'd admitted to himself that maybe the janitor had a point.

     "Pharma," Ratchet said calmly.

     Pharma landed alongside him and fell in step with him. "I was wondering if you'd like to go get a cube, since we're both getting off at the same time.  I know of a charming diner called Spiceturn's closer to the housing district."

     Ratchet shrugged. "It isn't as if I have anything better to do with my time.  All right, Pharma, lead the way."

     Pharma suppressed the sting of having Ratchet dismiss it so lightly, though his wings dipped a little as he obeyed.

 

* * *

 

 

     Ratchet was sitting down in the doctors' lounge when Pharma got out of his latest surgery and came to relax for a few minutes before he was called out again.  As he entered Ratchet lowered his face to his hands with a deep exvent, clearly upset about something.  Pharma let it lie for a moment as he fetched them both small cubes of energon and slid one to Ratchet. "Cube for your thoughts?"

     Ratchet snorted. "It's nothing." But he took the cube and sipped anyway.

     Pharma arched an optic ridge at him before taking an innocent sip of his cube, not replying.

     His colleague finally gave a huff of resignation. "There's - I volunteer to take care of the slaves, you know that.  I've been a little too reckless in my spending to help them the last few months with that new mine they opened." He pinched his nasal ridge. "Thank Primus I paid off the house.  I'm going to lose my electricity and have to cut my energon, but I'll be alright."

     Pharma's optic ridges furrowed. "Ratchet, you can't starve yourself and then come to work as though everything is fine.  Beyond the example you're setting, you're also placing yourself more vulnerable to all the viruses in these walls, not to mention the consequences of energon deprivation on optic-hand coordination and equilibrium."

     "I don't have a choice!" Ratchet spread his hands helplessly. "I know what I'm getting paid this vorn and it's not enough!  I've already given up too much." He gave another resigned exvent and rubbed the base of his chevron. "Thank you for your concern, Pharma, but I'm fine.  I'll be alright." He stood and left his empty cube on the table beside Pharma.

 

     When Ratchet received his paycheck at the end of the vorn, he was surprised to find it much larger than he'd expected.  It would be more than enough to counter what he'd given.  The extra income was marked down as "back pay" for "clerical mistakes".  He walked out of his office more cheerfully than he had since he'd realized his financial problem.

     Pharma gave a crooked smile when he saw it.  Though he'd never been quite as sympathetic as Ratchet to the slaves' plight, he thoroughly disapproved of the practice in general and had always supported the other medic's efforts.  He'd just taken his support from medical to financial this time.  And knowing Ratchet wouldn't accept the handout he'd dredged up old reports of "mistaken files" and backpay rules to justify it, though the shanix were taken from his account.

     Well.  He was moving into a cheaper apartment anyway.  No paint off his plating.

 

* * *

 

    Maybe the old janitor had been right.  He needed to take an active stance on things.  Like flying for the first time - he couldn't just wait for the headwind to take him.  And the Board had been giving Ratchet a lot of guff lately, having to take care of that noble.

    It still irked him that he hadn't been sent instead.  He knew better how to navigate the nobles' world, was more comfortable with it.  And Ratchet was not _that_ much better than him at their job - if at all.

     Anyway, rivalry aside, it wasn't Ratchet's fault, and the mech had been stressed.  He could probably use an afternoon out.  So Pharma caught up to him at a glide once again as Ratchet walked out at the end of his shift. "Hello, Ratchet.  Will you be busy when my shift ends in a few hours?  I was thinking we could head over to Spiceturn's and refuel.  What do you say?"

     Ratchet had been occupied with a datapad as he spoke, and he'd been walking a bit over-quickly. "I'm sorry, Pharma, I'll have to take a rain check.  I had plans with Illusion for this evening."

     Pharma faltered. "Illusion?"

     "Illusion of Velocitron, the femme I've been courting." Ratchet said, still obviously distracted by the aforementioned plans.

     Pharma faltered further, but steeled himself against it. "I see." His voice was a bit colder now, tighter to hide his disappointment. "I'll see you next overlapping shift, then." He said.  As Ratchet made a vague noise of acknowledgement he fell back and turned away, faceplates hardening a little - before smoothing as he flipped on his medical protocols.  Emotional upset wouldn't do.  He had a t-cog surgery to perform.

 


	2. Resentment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was going to put all this in one chapter, but it started getting too long, so I decided to post what was up before and then add this later.

     No.

     No, no, no, no, no.

     Pharma didn't lose.  Not like this.

     He could admit that Ratchet was an equally good doctor, perhaps even better.  To himself, of course.  No one else needed to know that.  But that - _that_ was a fellow doctor, a mech who had needed to complete the same training he had.  Someone who _should_ be his equal - they had roughly the same experience, as well, though largely due to the older mech's injury that had put him out of work for a time.

     But this?  Oh no, Pharma didn't lose like this, to someone less qualified.

    Because there was no way in Pit that this _Illusion_ knew Ratchet like he did.  Even the mech's _roommate_ would know him better than a patient.  He still didn't know how a noble had managed to worm their way this far into Ratchet's life outside work, but he was _not_ going to lose his chance because she got to him first.

     He transformed and landed in front of his apartment building, souring further as he was reminded that he gave up the one with the Seeker-style window to help support Ratchet, when he'd given everything to help those slaves.  If he hadn't given that up he could land directly in home, like he was meant to, but no.  He had done something to support Ratchet and now it had been thrown back in his faceplates - casually.  Ratchet didn't even know.  No one did - no one could.

     That thought came to him as he reached his apartment and furiously locked it behind him.  He stiffened suddenly and then let his helm thunk against the door, grimacing at both the emotions and how it stung his chevron.

     Ratchet didn't even know.

     Pharma couldn't be angry with him about this.  It was his own fault - he hadn't made a move early enough.  Even the femme couldn't really be blamed for being faster.  Ratchet was a catch.  Harsh-lined, for a Praxian, and gruff, wingless - but all part of his unique, accidental charm.  Not to mention being a skilled doctor and - though he wouldn't admit it to his faceplates - a true equal.

     And to be fair, her file revealed her to be not unnattractive.  Far from Pharma's taste.  Slender, blue and white, racerframe - very distinctly Velocitronian.  He'd never liked the breed.  All the streamlining and beauty of his own race without the elegance and hardly half the grace, no matter how they fooled themselves.  Built for sheer speed on racetracks on the ground, both on foot and on wheels.  He failed to see the appeal.

     Apparently Ratchet didn't.  His wings twitched irritably as he stalked into his meager kitchen.  He couldn't be angry at Ratchet, he couldn't blame the femme, but he still seethed about the situation.  And Ratchet hadn't even _noticed_ him - !

     Still.  There really wasn't anything he could do except, perhaps, keep trying.

     No.  No, he wouldn't sink to that.  He was not so desperate that he would continue trying for a mech who was already courting.  Ratchet's affections were not so important to him.  He had his pride.

     That didn't mean he wouldn't seethe about it, though.

 

* * *

 

      "What's wrong with you, Pharma?" One of the older doctors - Metallaid - asked as he dispensed himself a cube of energon.

     Pharma snorted. "Nothing, Metallaid.  What makes you think there is anything wrong with me?"

     Metallaid gave him an unamused look. "Pharma, you've been stalking around the hospital slagged off for days.  Everyone can tell.  When your med-protocols aren't on you've become a positively vicious tightaft.  Half the nurses are terrified of you.  A good few of the doctors, too.  You've scared my intern so much he can't even carry messages to you when I need him to."

     Pharma glanced at the red and yellow bot behind Metallaid with disinterest. "Please.  I gave him a little discipline."

     "What you did is ruin a perfectly good intern.  Look at him, he's got anxiety." Metallaid gestured to the intern before facepalming. "Look, what's wrong?"

     "Better question," Greenspeak, one of the nurses, said as he breezed in. "What's going on with _Ratchet_?  It's like he and Pharma switched personalities.  Suddenly he's going around cheerful and a little gruff and Pharma's the one stalking around like he hates everyone."

     Pharma bared his fangs at the green and gray mech, scowling. "The mech's _courting_ , of course he's happy," He spat before he considered the repercussions.

     Both nurse and his fellow doctor turned to stare at him. "The frag is he courting?" Greenspeak finally sputtered. "Who could put up with him and get _that_ kind of response?  I seriously started to think he hated everyone!"

     "Some femme named Illusion." Pharma waved a hand dismissively. "I don't give it long.  She's a noble."

     "A noble?" Metallaid frowned. "We don't have contact with nobles except for the Board - which doesn't include any femmes - and patients."

     Pharma really didn't want to discuss this. "A patient, she's in the files." He said shortly.

     Greenspeak and Metallaid exchanged alarmed glances.  Pharma didn't notice - he was already on his way back out the door.

 

* * *

 

    

     "Ratchet?" Pharma asked, hovering in the doorway to Ratchet's office, which was being cleaned out.  This was the last thing he'd expected to happen - have Ratchet leave the hospital entirely.  She'd _bought him a practice_.  It only served to increase Pharma's resentment.

     Ratchet huffed and set the box aside, turning to look at him, scowling. "What _now_?" He asked irritably. "I have all the datawork done, the facility is set up and you've had my notice, nor am I friends with any of you so the only celebration coming of this is celebrating that I'm gone."

     Pharma twitched at that.  He hadn't been involved in the planning of that, had even snapped at the nurses he'd heard about it from.  Metallaid and one of the janitors had informed him he was being unreasonably irritable, but he ignored them.

     Ratchet gave an amused little smile. "Oh, you thought I didn't know about that?"

     Pharma gave him a flat look. "The Board wants to see you." He said bluntly.

     "Why?" Ratchet demanded, looking taken aback.

     "Evidently they found out you've been courting a patient." Pharma knew he didn't sound surprised, and couldn't bring himself to fake it.  He'd known this was coming the minute he realized what he'd revealed to Metallaid. "They aren't happy with it."

     "I don't even work here anymore, I'm cleaning out my office, what does it matter to them?" Ratchet snapped, quickly regaining his irritation twofold.

     "Bad reputations.  Besides, you're the best here, and you're leaving.  You think they're above blackmailing you to stay?" Pharma replied. "I wouldn't be.  If you leave we're going to lose patients for certain." He had no qualms about admitting this.  While he was certain he and Ratchet were of a skill level, the grounder got far more attention for it here in Iacon.  Bitter as it made him, it would impact his own job if Ratchet left, and not necessarily in a positive way.

     Ratchet froze and his optics widened, staring at him. "You told them.  _You_ did this, didn't you?" He stalked toward Pharma, gripping a wrench. "You made them think I was taking advantage of her, that I was acting out of line.  What is wrong with you?  What do you gain from this?"

     Pharma backed up as Ratchet advanced, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.  His gaze flickered between Ratchet's face and the wrench - he'd never seen Ratchet like this and he wasn't sure how to deal with it. "Okay, you're right, I did report it," He said nervously. "But they drew their own conclusions.  I didn't say you were taking advantage, all I told them was that you were courting a patient that's all what are you doing with that wrench?  Ratchet, you're not going to need th-"

     He was cut off by a sharp rap on the helm from Ratchet.  He wasn't damaged at all, but he broke off to stare with wide optics.  Ratchet gave him a cold smile and tossed the wrench from hand to hand briefly. "Move." He said flatly.

     Pharma darted to the side and stared after him in shock as Ratchet marched off toward the Boardroom.

     "Holy Primus below," He swore under his vents.

     He'd fragged up.

**Author's Note:**

> Pharma in my verse is going to hold roughly true to his canonical storyline until his fall at Delphi. I use Aligned Ratchet with elements from other generations, and Aligned Ratchet would never have just left him to die no matter how much he hated the mech. So, in this verse - Pharma gets rescued by Autobots instead, Ratchet never has issues with his hands, and we get a Pharma who is essentially forced to heal and be a good bot instead of going batcon crazy and evil.
> 
> That said, when he goes for the t-cog surgery, he's seriously going to fix the thing. I decided to try and be funny.


End file.
